Both men were silent. Slowly the younger man took up the reins. "I just stopped to tell you, Doctor."
"Ah huh. Well, you go home and rest. Get a good night whatever you do.
You'll have to go out again, I suppose. Call me if anything turns up;
I'm good for a little yet. You've got to get some rest, Harry, do you
hear?" he spoke roughly.
"Thank you, Doctor. I don't think I will need to disturb you, though; everybody else is doing nicely. I can't think of anything that is likely to call me out."
"Well, go to bed anyway."
"I will, good night, Doctor."
"Good night, Harry."
The mare trotted on down the dark street, past the twinkling lights. The Doctor stood by the curb until he heard the buggy wheels rattle over the railroad tracks, then turned to walk stiffly back to his seat on the porch.
Soon the tired horse was in the hands of old Uncle George, while Mam Liz ministered to the weary doctor. The old black woman lingered in the dining room after serving his dinner, hovering about the table, calling his attention to various dishes, watching his face the while with an expression of anxiety upon her own wrinkled countenance. At last Harry looked up at her with a smile.
"Well Mam Liz, what is it? Haven't I been good today?"
"No sah. Mars Harry yo ain't. Yo been plumb bad, an' I feel jest like I uster when yo was er little trick an' I tuk yo 'cross my knee an' walloped yo good."